If My Heart Keeps Singing
by Angst Is My Middle Name
Summary: Montgomery Scott has only ever loved three times: engineering, the Enterprise... and her. He just doesn't quite realize it the last time because he never had a crush before. This is their slightly awkward (and asexual) love story. Scotty/OC. More inside.
1. Once Upon a Dream

_**Nobody seems to care about poor old Scotty. I thought he needed a little love, and then this story and pairing took over my life. This is a Scotty/OC, and the OC is my character Effie from my fic Acts of Courage. She just goes by a new nickname now... and happens to be a Starfleet chaplain. **_

_**Things you will find in this fic: asexual!Scotty, asexual!OC, fluff, a little angst, five chapters, awkwardness, some Gaelic, Scotty occasionally slumbering in a Jeffries tube, no sex (except for mentioning how Scotty really doesn't get it), and hopefully enjoyment.**_

_**Things you will not find in this fic: me owning Star Trek in any way.**_

* * *

Montgomery Scott had wanted to be an engineer on a starship for as long as he could remember. Scots have a long and storied history of engineering feats, and he wished more than anything to join their ranks. He was reading technical journals by the age of six, having mastered the basics of reading not long before, and anything he didn't understand, he would look up online. His father, Montgomery Scott, Sr., was more than happy to provide his eldest child and son whatever he wanted to read. Young Monty performed well in all subjects in primary school, but he excelled in mathematics and sciences, where he was proverbial light-years ahead of his peers. (It should be noted that his marks in art classes were less than stellar, as he was often chided by his instructors for being too technical in his art, as his work resembled schematics more than anything else.)

He graduated from secondary school and college at age fifteen after disproving a major theory on how Klingon shields worked and interacted with photon torpedoes. He took it upon himself to build, in his spare time, a working mock-up of a Klingon shield using seven separate shield generators and proved that firing torpedoes at the junctions of the shields caused no disruption of shield cohesion as the current theory stated. His work was quickly published in a leading journal and later in _The Encyclopedia of Engineering Development and Design_ under 'The Aberdeen Solution'. His school advanced his matriculation, and he graduated in the spring of 2237, very near the top of his class.

His parents and grandparents were eager for him to attend university, but young Monty had other ideas. He procured himself some work on various freighters to acquaint himself with actual ship operations before he made any long-term decisions. He didn't want to become some uppity, full of himself engineer with lots of silly ideas and no experience to back them up or make them happen. The senior engineers tended to like him and were delighted to have someone to share their own knowledge and experience with, especially someone so bright and promising. Being engineers, they were also quite aware that he was the brain behind the Aberdeen Solution.

He enjoyed his time on the USS Deirdre the most, and it was where he met his favorite mentor, Murron Douglass. Murron was a fiery Scot, a black woman of just over middle age, who loved her ship more than anything in the world. She didn't take shit off anyone and had no tolerance for either ignorance or stupidity. Even the freighter's captain was sure to tread lightly around Murron Douglass. Monty wanted to be just like her, wanted to be respected and trusted, wanted people to look up to him the way he looked up to her.

"Listen here, laddie," she told him one day in early 2239, "I've got some associates in the Engineering Department at the University of Edinburgh. You've got promise, and I want to see ye succeed. Ye want to go into Starfleet, aye?"

"Aye, ma'am," he replied, now seventeen.

"Then that's where ye ought to go, Edinburgh. No engineering school is finer, no' in the whole Federation. You'll thank me, lad. I'll pop off a letter later this week so ye can go in the fall when they start."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am. Call me Murron. Ma'am makes me feel old, an' I hate to feel old."

"Yes, thank you, Murron."

"Good lad. Get to work."

Monty was easily accepted into the university, and he dove headfirst into his work, flourishing with the coursework and theoretical discussions. He pushed himself to do his best in all his courses at university, especially his engineering, maths, and physics courses, and whenever someone asked him what his future plans were, he would happily tell them, "Starfleet Corps of Engineers!" and rattle off a list of ships he'd like to serve on. After the first year, however, his marked disinterest in any courses that were not specific to his majors showed in his less than average grades. This brought down his GPA slightly, but his marks in his major courses were near to perfect. He graduated the University of Edinburgh in 2243 _summa cum laude_ at age twenty-one with some delightedly happy family in the audience.

The next year he was accepted to Starfleet Academy, and it felt like coming home. He _thrived_ at the Academy, where everyone was (almost) as interested in transwarp theory and relativistic physics and the best ways to handle warp core damage as he was. He cared not a whit for ethical arguments, xenobiology, xenolinguistics, or diplomacy. In those courses, Monty did just well enough to receive good marks from the advisors, and it worked. The Academy instructors seemed to like not only him but his attitude, though they and his family wondered why he wasn't interested in the Command track and captaining his own ship one day. Monty took the Kobayashi Maru to placate them, but he skewed it in his favor by using an obscure an engineering trick that would never work in real life to stalemate the test, thereby ensuring they would leave him in engineering where he belonged. It was there in the Engineering Department that Monty earned a new moniker: Scotty.

Scotty's peers at Starfleet found him to be both a good coworker and formidable opponent. His arguments for his side in any debate were always well thought out, logical to a fault, and technically sound. He was rarely, if ever, out-argued, and no one could deny his passion for starship engineering and transporter theory or his extensive knowledge thereof. He found himself handpicked by Adm. Archer to be his aide for his Advanced Relativistic Mechanics course in his final year at the Academy, a position he kept after his graduation in 2248 and while he worked at the San Francisco Shipyards.

In the early months of 2255, he got into a heated, weeks long argument with Archer over transporter capabilities and transwarp beaming that ended with when he absconded with one of Archer's beagles and attempted to transport it to the adjacent system; the keyword was _attempted_. The dog vanished. Archer flew into a rage, bellowing at Scotty until he was red in the face and then yelled some more. Scotty took his chastisement quietly and stoically, refusing to outright admit that he was wrong in anything other than using the dog for the experiment. He didn't care. He would not say he was wrong when he wasn't. So it was, in the late spring of 2255, he was sent to Starfleet outpost on Delta Vega with a Roylan called Keenser. Scotty knew why he was being sent to the icy hellhole. He wondered why poor Keenser was there.

Life on Delta Vega was awful. It was not the lack of people that bothered Scotty. He'd never been a highly sociable person, choosing a few close friends over many acquaintances and looking for a single person to cleave to in a crowd or at a party. No, the thing that bothered him most about life on Delta Vega was the utterly mundane nature of the work. It was all the same, day in and day out. His mind was ready to rot from stagnation. He only managed to keep it sharp through continual reading of technical journals and tweaking his precious transwarp beaming theory, though he couldn't quite perfect it. During the nights, he would listen to the wind and strange beasts howling outside and wonder when Adm. Archer would forgive him enough to send him somewhere… warmer.

Montgomery Scott went about his duties on Delta Vega with little of the zeal he exhibited at the Academy, no longer feeling challenged by the work he was given by Starfleet and wondering if he really wanted to remain in the 'Fleet anymore, though he refused to burden anyone else with such thoughts. He was in one of these black moods when Keenser came into the main hangar with an ancient Vulcan and a young Terran called Jim Kirk. The Vulcan handed him his transwarp theory and a ticket off the frozen hellhole right to a Federation ship… and she was the brand new Enterprise! Kirk took command of the ship from a young Vulcan and sent Scotty to Engineering and destroyed a Romulan ship with red matter that shouldn't scientifically exist and made a black hole they would have been sucked into if Scotty didn't eject their warp cores into the anomaly to blow them to safety. Things happened quickly on the Enterprise. He liked this ship, and that was good, because without warp, it took them three weeks to limp back to Earth for repairs.

It was there, in the Engineering bay of the USS Enterprise, that Scotty fell in love for only the third time in his life. His first love was engineering. The second was the Enterprise.

Now, it should be stated that one of Scotty's defining characteristics was obliviousness. His social skills were slightly lacking, especially when it came to romantic pursuits. He was notoriously bad not only at flirting but also at knowing when someone was flirting with him. This had never really bothered him, largely because he didn't realize it was happening. He had never, even during puberty, had any crushes on or interest in sexual relations with anyone, be they male, female, or any variant thereof. Listening to the sexual exploits of his friends and colleagues merely fueled his apathy for the activity. This is not to say that he could not recognize if someone was attractive or good-looking, but he typically stayed away from people who expressed any sort of sexual interest in him (once it was explained to him that's what it was).

Even in this day an age, a complete disinterest in sex was extremely rare and usually mocked. His friends at university and at the Academy would offer up subtle jibes at him for his lack of experience, but after a while it just became another thing that made Scotty who he was. In the rare event of a sexual urge cropping up, which was only natural, Scotty would just handle it himself and get on with his life. After all, his interests laid in warp cores and transporters, not people.

That's why he was so confused when he felt his heart flutter and his stomach flip upon meeting her for the first time. It was near the beginning of their slow limp back to Earth when she came into Engineering. A petty officer second class led her over to Scotty, though he had his attention focused on a wall panel, and told him, "Sir, she asked to speak with the head of Engineering. With Chief Engineer Olsen gone, you're the highest-ranking officer and have the most authority. I believe acting Cpt. Kirk named you chief engineer?"

"Aye, that he did. Thank ye, petty officer," he said, then turned to their guest, "And what can I do for you?"

She stood before him in a science blue dress with long sleeves, the lieutenant's bars on the cuffs catching the light. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun. Her face was kind. The young lieutenant extends a slim hand, saying, "Hello there. PO Sedna tells me you're the head of Engineering?"

"For the time being, anyway. Name's Montgomery Scott, though most just call me Scotty."

"Good to meet you, Scotty," she tells him cheerfully, "I'm Winifred Mulcahy, the ship's chaplain. I just wanted to come down and meet you and ask you to remind your department of where my office is. I'm right by the main medical bay. So, if anyone needs to speak with me, my door is open 24/7, for the most part. I know the crew suffered a lot of losses, so I'm just asking all the department heads to remind their crews where I am."

"I certainly will, Lt. Mulcahy."

"Oh please, it's Winifred, or Freddey."

"Of course, Freddey. I'll send out a notice to the entire department quick as."

"Wonderful. Thank you, Scotty. I've gotta go. I'm on my way to the Communication department."

"I could escort you out, if you'd like," Scotty offered.

"That's awfully nice of you, but I'm sure you have way more important things to do than show me out. See ya later, Scotty," she said, offering him a wave on her way out.

Scotty, however, could not think of a single thing more important than escorting Winifred Mulcahy out of Engineering, her dainty hand resting on his arm. He watched her until she was out of sight, a strange weight settling on his heart that he'd never known before. If anyone noticed, they said nothing. He slept in a Jeffries tube that night, having no quarters of his own and wanting to be near the hum of the engines. He could see the lovely face in his mind's eye, the grey eyes smiling and sparkling with her grin. Light freckles were dotted across her nose and cheeks, and she was laughing about something he'd said.

_This is insane!,_ he thought to himself, curling up a bit more in the tube, _Why is this happening to me? I only spoke to the lass for a moment, so I can't understand why I can't get her out of my head. I've seen plenty of pretty lasses before, but this never went on. Perhaps tomorrow it won't be so bad._

He woke the next day to Jim Kirk prodding him and asking, "Why the hell were you sleeping in here? You shoulda told me you needed quarters approved! I'll see to it later today. Now, come on, I wanna ask you some questions about the engines. I need to know more about the ship."

"Of course, laddie," Scotty replied, quickly exiting the Jeffries tube, "What would ye like to know?"

He spent the whole morning showing the captain (acting captain, he reminded himself) around the Engineering deck, and Scotty managed to forget the pretty chaplain while explaining his wonderful engines.

* * *

_****__**Also, I want to thank tumblr users arthurpoo, icelsa, and phaserbeams for helping me out. I oscillated so much on what division to have Freddey in before settling on Sciences/Medical because she acts sort of as another counselor.**_

_****__**Please review, not for my ego, but to let me know what you think so far and if it needs anything else to help your understanding. **_


	2. Somewhere Beyond the Moon

_**A/N: I did have Spock a little more beat up. I mean, Khan laid into him pretty darn good on that garbage scow or whatever it was. I thought he should have been a little more damaged than just that cut on the bridge of his nose. Also, I suspect that Scotty may not have known that McCoy needed Khan alive to make the serum for Kirk, so he's wee bit upset about it.**_

* * *

He stood outside Kirk's hospital room on the Enterprise, wringing his hands. His face was damp from tears that were slow to dry. He refused to look at anyone who passed by, preferring to look at his boots. His boots, after all, couldn't judge him. A spot on his jaw throbbed just enough to be annoying, the pain ebbing back after the adrenaline wore off and the grief of watching Kirk die really set in. He suspected it was bruising.

The sound of quick, purposeful footsteps made Scotty look up. Spock was approaching at a quickstep, an unconscious body thrown over his shoulder, his nose still dripping green blood. The Vulcan's face was set in a hard expression. Uhura was not far behind him. Scotty approached, asking, "Who's that? Wha' happened?"

"It's Khan. We brought him back," Uhura answered, and Scotty felt rage boil up in his chest.

"What? Ye weren't supposed tae bring him back! Ye were meant tae kill him! He should have been put down like the beast-"

"Scotty, he's the only way to save Kirk."

"How?"

"McCoy used a serum from Khan's blood on that tribble, it worked so-"

"The cap'n's no' a tribble!"

"Well, at least we tried, even if it doesn't work… at least we'll have tried."

Scotty drew in a shuddering breath and dug the heels of his hands in his eyes, trying to stave off more tears. He felt a brief stab of betrayal in his heart as he wondered what they would have done if he were the one dead from going into the chamber. He doubted they would have gone through all that trouble for him. He pushed the feeling out. This was no time to be angry with anyone but Khan and especially not his crewmates. Scotty followed Spock into the room where Kirk lay.

McCoy gave him a cursory glance when he entered, working intently to recreate the serum he'd made earlier from Khan's blood. Kirk was still in the cryotube, frost collecting on his hair and lashes. Spock sat nearby, shaking finely, his face set in a stony expression that betrayed nothing. Scotty noted the Vulcan's knuckles had burst, sending dark green blood dribbling down his fingers as his hands hung limp between his knees. Blood also leaked slowly from his nostrils and down his chin. There was a small cut to the bridge of his nose. Bruises in mottled green and blue and black blossomed over his jaw, at his temples, over his throat, across his burst knuckles. Uhura had gone back to the bridge to stall Starfleet inquiries, leaving McCoy, Spock, and Scotty with Kirk. McCoy grumbled to Scotty, "Here, clean 'im up," after a few moments and handed him some sterile cloths.

"Len, I came as quick as I could. How is he?"

Scotty turned. Freddey hurried into the room, her long dark hair in a loose braid. Long blue sleeves were rolled up over her elbows, her shirt and trousers wrinkled and dirty.

"I was helping with clean up and rescue on one of the lower decks when I got your call," she explained softly, "What happened to him?"

Scotty turned away from her and settled his attention on Spock, avoiding his eyes and muttering, "Umm… McCoy asked me to clean you up, Mr. Spock."

"Of course, Mr. Scott," he replied after a beat, "I give you leave."

Scotty settled himself on a stool in front of the hybrid and set to work on the knuckles first, trying not to listen in on McCoy and Freddey's conversation. He sniffed occasionally, unable to completely stop his tears. Spock, to his credit, barely flinched during clean up. Scotty could hear Freddey's voice washing over him as she spoke with McCoy. She sounded sad. Scotty knew she and the captain knew each other very well and had for some time, so it makes sense for her to be upset over Kirk's death. Scotty felt himself hunch involuntarily. He did not want to draw attention to himself lest she notice him and come to blame him. He quietly finished his work on Spock's knuckles and moved on to his face. Spock's expression had softened, allowing a sliver of emotion to peek through, though it was unreadable to Scotty. He was just glad the Vulcan averted his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at him directly.

"Mr. Scott," Spock finally spoke up after their long silence.

"What is it, Spock?" he replied thickly.

"I fear that you are operating under a belief that there are those who blame you for the captain's condition," he told him quietly, "I can assure you nothing is further from the truth. You performed admirably in your duties. It is simply that you, along with the rest of the known universe, are no match for the stubbornness of James T. Kirk. Nothing you or anyone else could have done would have prevented him from going into that chamber, as he would not have allowed anyone else to sacrifice their life for him. You should not feel ashamed of your actions or afraid of judgment. You are not at fault, Mr. Scott."

Scotty felt his lip tremble and his eyes fill with tears once more. He drew his sleeve across his face, wiping away tears and snot before finishing up on Spock's face. He wasn't quite sure how to thank the man for what he'd said, so he settled for a murmured, "Thank ye, Spock."

When Scotty had finished, the hybrid got to his feet, fixed his shirt (which still sported blotches of both red and green blood), and said to McCoy, "Doctor, I must attend to ship's business and misdirect Starfleet admiralty as to Kirk's condition. I trust you will alert me to any changes."

"I will."

Scotty watched him go and accidentally caught eyes with Freddey, though he dropped his gaze quickly. He spoke with her on occasion after their first meeting, and he may have fabricated a few reasons here and there to speak with her just so he could see her and hear her voice as they often had no real occasion for interaction. Besides, she spent all her free time with Kirk. Scotty could not compete with the supernova that was James Kirk. He was nothing in comparison, had no charisma, no charm, no tact. Why would she even _want_ to speak with him?

"Scotty?"

Freddey sat down in the chair Spock had previously occupied, though Scotty still refused to look up. His knees were far easier to look at than her face. She was here to accuse him. Spock may not have blamed him, but surely she must. McCoy worked silently off to the side, clinking glass and sometimes muttering. That meant Kirk was still dead in the cryotube… well, mostly dead. More tears slid down his cheeks. He felt small thin fingers at his chin gently lift his head; he refused to raise his eyes.

"Scotty, please… won't you look at me?" Freddey asked softly.

Oh, as if he would ever refuse her anything she asked. He raised his eyes to meet hers, deep blue to light grey, both red from crying. Her cheeks were flushed and damp, her eyes puffy. A tear rolled down her cheek slowly, and without thinking, Scotty reached out and gently wiped it away, perhaps letting his hand linger a bit longer than necessary. He was thankful his face was already red. Freddey sniffed loudly, looped her arms around Scotty's neck, and whispered, "Thank you for being with him at the end, for making sure he wasn't alone. I'm so glad he didn't have to do that alone, Scotty. Thank you-"

Her voice choked off in a quiet sob, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand resting at the junction of her hip and waist and the other splayed across her back. He felt her frame hitch slightly as she tried not to cry too loud. He held her close, reveling secretly in the feeling of embracing her. He moved his head slightly to press his cheek to hers. She smelled of smoke and burnt metal, and there were pieces of debris in her hair. Scotty wondered what she had seen while helping to rescue people. He tightened his arms around her; she did the same. He never wanted to let her go, wanted to hold her until her tears turned to laughter and she was no longer sad. He never wanted her to be sad again.

A hand gently gripped Scotty's shoulder, and McCoy whispered in his other ear, "They're asking for you in Engineering, Scotty," then went back to his serum. Freddey must have heard, because she carefully pulled herself out of Scotty's embrace, saying thickly, "Go, Scotty. They need you. Get the Enterprise running like she should be. I'm sure we need more power for docking and… well, for other stuff. Go on, they need you there… and so does everyone else."

She wiped a few errant tears from his face. He avoided her eyes again. If he were to let her look into his again, he would give everything away, and he couldn't tell her… not yet. He quickly got up and went to Engineering, needing the peace found only in the hum of the engines.

"Alright, everyone, let's get our lady back in shape. Wha' have we got?"

Scotty lost himself in his work, sleeping in the Jeffries tubes when he slept at all and carefully avoiding the area of the warp core. He worked until he was sore and sweaty and so tired he was sure he could do no more until he thought of Kirk pushing his way through immense pain and radiation poisoning to right the ship, and then he would push himself a little harder. After three days, his hands were filthy, dirt and grease bedded under his nails, his shirt and trousers covered with grime of varying kinds, and he hadn't left Engineering once. He estimates he possibly slept a total of nine hours, and that was the high end of his estimate.

"Sir?" a lieutenant approached, "Dr. McCoy has requested you in Medical."

"Tell 'im I'll be there when I can," he replied hoarsely.

"He requested you immediately, sir."

Scotty ran a grimy hand though his hair with a sigh. He didn't want to leave his wee bairns now, not his beloved engines. He asked, "Why does he want me?"

"He said it involved the captain, sir, but he wasn't specific."

Scotty's heart jumped into his throat.

"Call 'im back. Tell 'im I'm on my way now."

He hustled out of Engineering and up to Medical in record time, still covered in grease and grime. McCoy probably should have took one look at him and thrown him right out on his rear to clean up before he came back, but the doctor just let him right into Kirk's room. The captain was out of the cryotube, and that alone made Scotty want to burst into tears of joy. The diagnostic whirring and beeping and showing signs of life was just an added bonus.

"He's alive, Mr. Scott," McCoy whispered joyfully, "It worked. He's alive."

The doctor's eyes shone with tears, and he was grinning like a madman, like he'd never been happier in his whole life. The doors whooshed open, and Freddey came in not long after Scotty; she looked worried.

"Len, what is it? What's going on?"

"Oh, Fred, it's Jim! He's alive! He's breathin', his heart's beatin', everythin' works again! Oh, he's alive. All we gotta do now is wait for him to wake up."

Freddey's face lit up. She cried, "Len, that's wonderful!" and launched herself at the doctor, who picked her up and spun her, laughing loudly. Scotty was still beside himself with joy, but he couldn't help but feel a flame jealousy spark up in his chest. When McCoy put her down, however, she turned to Scotty and did the same, throwing herself into his arms. He held her tight around the waist and spun until they were both dizzy and red from laughter. Scotty set her back on her feet reluctantly.

"Please, Len, let me sit with him," she said, "He's my best friend and-"

"You can come sit with him any time you want, but remember there's other people who need ya, Fred," McCoy told her gently, "Jim sure ain't goin' nowhere."

"Yes… yes, of course. You're right, Len. I'd better get back to my office. Thank you for calling me here and telling me he's alive."

She smiled at Scotty just as she left, and it made Scotty feel giddy; he grinned back.

"Mr. Scott, you look like you ain't had proper rest in days," McCoy turned to him, wrinkling his nose, "or a shower. Have you even left Engineering since you left here the other day?"

Scotty flushed a deep red. Guilty as charged.

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought. Look, go take a break," the doctor told him firmly, "Get some sleep, somethin' to eat, and for chrissakes' get a shower, Scotty… and a change of clothes. Make yerself sick carrying on like this."

Scotty looked down at his dirty boots, his face still red, mumbling, "No, no, doc, I really couldn't. I need tae go back down and finish up work on-"

"_No_, you don't. Look, I know why you been runnin' yourself ragged, believe me. I probably know better than most. You feel like ya done Jim wrong somehow, but you didn't. Jim got that damn fool idea in his head, and there's no one alive can make that stubborn fool change his mind once it's set. Take a break, Scotty. Jim would want ya to… and I'm orderin' ya to."

"Don' suppose I can ignore doctor's orders."

"Damn right, ya can't. Now git."

Scotty slumped off to his quarters, the last three days of near nonstop work finally catching up with him. His entire body ached, from a dully throbbing headache to a deep soreness in his fingers to sharp twinges in his back and thighs. A hot shower and some rest would do him good; food seemed unnecessary at the moment. He stepped out of his boots and stripped off his filthy uniform as soon as he entered his quarters, looking longingly to his bed when he was in only his skivvies. With a sigh, he turned to the head for his much needed shower. A low groan escaped him when he finally stepped under the hot spray. The water just felt so good. His muscles loosened up under the rhythm of the water, the soreness ebbing away slightly. The water pooling at his feet and swirling down the drain was nearly black from the layer of grime that had coated him. He quickly gave himself a thorough scrubbing, even taking the time to pick the dirt out from under his nails. Might as well clean up good if he's been ordered to.

Once he was out and toweled off, he barely got a fresh pair of pants and a tee on before he just collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

He dreamt that night, dreamt awful, vivid dreams of Kirk rising like a zombie after being pulled from the chamber, his skin sloughing off where it was exposed. He reached a clawed hand out for Scotty, who found himself frozen to the spot. Voices pressed in all around him, shouting at him, blaming him for Kirk's death. Scotty's heart was beating out of his chest. Bony fingers closed around his throat. The voices clamored impossibly louder, deafeningly so. Scotty clawed at the hand choking him, unable to scream as he so desperately needed to. Kirk's face came into view slowly, horrifyingly. The skin was melting off to reveal muscle and bone beneath. His now bare jaw was set into a permanent and terrifying grin as he rasped, "_It's all your fault_."

Scotty woke with a loud scream and covered in sweat. His breath came in short gasps he couldn't control. Tears pricked at his eyes. He drew his knees up to his chest, his breathing uncontrollable. He couldn't even pull in enough air to cry properly. He felt lightheaded and sick and cold and frightened. The shadows closed in around him, silence rushing in his ears.

He thought longer than he probably should have about calling for Freddey and spilling (most of) his heart to her. Even the simple mental picture of her face was calming, helping to slow his erratic breathing. He tried lying back down, his knees still drawn to his chest, still shaking like a leaf, and he imagined her doing simple things. He pictured her braiding her long dark hair and smiling at him and laughing. He saw the freckles he dreamed of the first time they met. Oh, he saw her clear as day sitting beside him and heard her voice singing a lilting Gaelic tune. She smiled wider when he tried to join in, his voice not quite as good as hers, though she wouldn't say so.

Scotty slipped into sleep once more, this time with happier dreams of smattered freckles and long dark waves and smiling grey eyes. He slept without interruption for nearly ten hours.


	3. For Auld Lang Syne

_**A/N: Sgian-dubh is pronounced 'skayn-doo'. And I found Freddey's pretty green cocktail dress on Unique Vintage.**_

* * *

The crew of the Enterprise was celebrating the first New Year's since their five-year mission began. Those who celebrated Christmas and other popular winter solstice-related holidays had done so the previous week with a big party, complete with the exchange of presents. Scotty had received several lovely gifts from his friends and crew, but his favorite had come from Freddey. She was not at the party, having been called away suddenly much to Scotty's dismay, but she came to his quarters the next day, bearing a small box bound with red ribbon.

"Merry Christmas, Scotty!" she chirped, "May I come in?"

"I, uh, yes, of course, lass…"

He scrambled to let her in, then realized his room was a mess. He muttered about the clutter and rubbish, but Freddey just smiled, saying, "Oh, don't worry about it. You oughta see my room. Looks like a hurricane blew through it. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you got your present from me."

She held out the small box, continuing, "Sorry it isn't wrapped up real pretty. I couldn't find any paper, and I didn't think you'd mind much."

"Oh, ye didnae have to get me anythin', lass, I-"

"Nonsense. Open it."

Scotty carefully took the box from her and pulled off the ribbon. She chewed her lip and bounced on the balls of her feet. He wondered what it could be. He popped the lid off the box and gave a small gasp.

"Do you like it, Scotty?" she asked anxiously.

Nestled in the box was a small knife known to the Scots as a sgian-dubh. When wearing a kilt and all its sundry, a man would keep this type of small knife tucked into his stocking. They were once real weapons, kept as a sort of backup, but they had become nothing more than ceremonial in recent times.

This sgian-dubh was lovely. The blade was finely crafted Damascus steel, clearly sharpened and ready for service. The hilt was carved from stag antler, a prized material, and the pommel set with a smoky, grey-brown stone colloquially called cairngorm. It was a wonderful blade with a handsome leather scabbard. It nearly brought tears to his eyes.

"Oh my-, Freddey, I love it, I really do," he said quietly, "but I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Shut up. You deserve it. I had a friend working in Scotland who owed me a favor. She made everything there. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Well, it makes my gift for you look awful cheap," he joked weakly.

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh no, you didn't have to get me anythi-"

"No, ye don't. Ye don't get to come down here with such a fine gift for me and not expect one in return. Mind, it's nowhere near as good as this, but I do hope you'll like it."

He retrieved the poorly wrapped package he'd carried around the party the night before and presented it to her. Lord, he was like an awkward teenager giving his first crush a present. He forgot sometimes that Freddey _was_ his first crush. He nervously watched her unwrap it, hoping she would like it and wouldn't think he was awful or stupid for it. When she got the paper off, her eyes lit up, and she let out a noise that sounded like a gasp mixed with a squeak.

"Is this-? Is this what I think it is?" she squealed.

"It's your Ancient Latin and Ancient Aramaic translation of the Kir'Shara, the complete teachings of Surak. I stumbled into it in the database one day and thought maybe you might like a bound copy of it. I know how much you like books, I mean…"

He shuffled his feet, looking at the carpet. Freddey said, "Oh, Scotty… Scotty, this is probably the most awesome and wonderful gift anyone's ever gotten me. I just… thank you, Scotty. Thank you very much."

Scotty could listen to Freddey say his name all day. He cast his eyes up to her face. She was gazing reverently upon the cover of the book, her fingers tracing the gilded letters of the title, a smile of pure joy on her face. _I wish she would look at me like that_…

"Merry Christmas, Freddey," he spoke up softly.

She looked up at him and smiled, replying, "Merry Christmas, Scotty."

She tucked the book under her arm and stepped close to him, wrapping her free arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. Scotty prayed she couldn't hear his pulse pounding. He put his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scents he always associated with her: her fruity shampoo, earthy soap, sweet perfume. He desperately wished he could do this all the time, just hold her close and breathe her in, wished he could hold her forever… but a call came over his comm, asking him to come to the main Engineering deck for some kind of test. Scotty and Freddey parted awkwardly, avoiding each other's eyes and not really speaking.

"Erm… well, I, uh… I better get goin' now… see what they want me for," he stammered.

"Yeah… yeah, of course. It's probably, you know… probably pretty important," she replied haltingly.

She turned to leave, and he watched her go, feeling a small swell of pride in his chest. He did not expect to see her that night.

"Scotty, I am a bit offended," she remarked with a smirk.

"Wha'-? Why? Wha' did I do?"

"You see, you gave me a book for Christmas, yet when I opened it, I found there was no inscription. Not one. Not on any page."

Scotty blinked at her for a moment.

"What?"

"_Mis_ter Scott," she told him cheerfully, "it is book-giving etiquette. If you give a book as a gift, then you _must_ provide the recipient an inscription to remember you by. I insist on having one from you."

"But… but it's your book. Why d'you want _me_ tae sign it?"

"So whenever I look at it, even when I'm old and grey, I'll always know who gave it to me. So if I ever show it off to anyone, they'll see it and know how wonderful you are."

Scotty felt heat rising up in his face. She wanted to keep it forever? And show it to other people and tell them he gave it to her? That was daunting. What should he write? What _could_ he write? He must have looked troubled because Freddey came over closer and told him, "Oh, don't worry yourself over it. It doesn't have to be anything really deep or fancy. Even a simple 'To Freddey, From Scotty,' would do. Tell ya what. I'll leave it with you for a bit… maybe 'til New Year's?"

"Aye… aye, Freddey, I think that'll do. I'll do my best tae leave you a fine message," he said.

"I know it will be."

She winked and left, leaving Scotty with the book and several questions on what the hell he should put in his inscription. He couldn't outright say he loved her, that was much too straightforward… but he couldn't just scrawl out a lazy to-and-from. No, he had to come up with something clever. She would like clever.

In the meantime, he puzzled over himself. Every day in Engineering, especially leading up to the big party, he heard his crewmates talking about their 'personal' habits, and every single one seemed to use some sort of fantasy to ease along their, well, habits. They would tell each other about the people they'd seen in their dreams and fantasies, their favorite faces and scenes to masturbate to, about waking up feeling a bit damp. Scotty just didn't get it. He saw Freddey in his dreams all the time, but never once had those images elicited that sort of response nor had he ever used them for _that_ purpose.

When he'd queried Dr. McCoy about what it felt like to be in love, McCoy had said that certain reactions may occur without his wishing them to, and when Scotty pushed him to be more specific, the doctor told him that such feelings usually manifest themselves in sexual fantasies and urges. Scotty began to wonder if something was wrong with him, why even though he thought about Freddey nearly the whole day he'd never felt this apparently common stirring in his groin. He found it strange when his crewmates said things like, "Damn, she was fine. Didja see that ass? Got a hard on just thinkin' about her," or, "Holy shit, you see him? Ooh, if he comes back, I'm gonna climb him like a tree… or maybe just ride him like a horse!" He just could not understand it.

The night before the big party, he shook all those thoughts out of his head and looked over to the book. He ran his fingers over the black leather cover with gold embossed letters that read, "Kir'Shara, or the Complete Teachings of Surak, translated into the Ancient Latin and Ancient Aramaic (Terra), by Winifred A. Mulcahy, Cadet Fourth Class, Starfleet Academy." He pondered what to write to her for a few more minutes before it struck him, but he was taking a big gamble.

The New Year's Eve party on the Enterprise was the biggest shindig since they'd set out just over six months ago. It lasted all day so everyone could attend, even those who didn't officially celebrate the New Year on that day. (It just so happened that the traditional Western New Year of December 31 sat smack in the middle of several other celebrations, making it the common date of the Federation calendar.) On the Enterprise, there was music and dancing and a good deal of drinking and merriment. Most of the crew spent the day before chatting about whom they wanted to spend the night with. Scotty listened but did not participate. He had Freddey's clumsily wrapped gift ready, his inscription inked into the front of the book. If it were not for that, he doubted he would even attend the party. He would have much preferred a quiet drink in the company of his engines and then a few more in the privacy of his quarters.

Everyone was invited to wear their civvies for the party, so Scotty played along, arriving in a black jacket, shirt, and tie and his kilt in the family tartan of black and white plaid, along with a simple black sporran. The sgian-dubh Freddey gave him was tucked into his stocking. Several people stopped him to offer compliments, but none were Freddey. Sulu, Chekov, Kirk, and McCoy had all donned smart black suits with ties of varying colors. Spock had chosen all black, though not a traditional suit and jacket. Uhura was showing off her legs in a short silver dress with long sleeves, while Carol Marcus sported a strapless, floor-length gown of pale pink chiffon; they both looked lovely.

Scotty sat back with a drink and watched his friends. Chekov was fussing over Sulu's tie, who would then aggravate him by tweaking the former's tie with a smirk. McCoy was telling Carol and Uhura what was surely a whale of a tale, waving his arms and gesticulating wildly, much to the ladies' delight. They were laughing with him over what was probably a story about Kirk. Said captain, meanwhile, was busy trying to make Spock dance with him. Spock seemed to be having none of it, though he did look somewhat amused. Still, even after an hour, there was no sign of Freddey. She probably wouldn't come. Scotty hung his head, nursing his drink and trying to hide the color in his cheeks.

"Scotty! There you are! I'm sorry I'm so late. I had a last minute confession that I _had_ to take care of before I came. Have you been enjoying the party?"

Freddey looked gorgeous, resplendent in a cocktail dress with a full skirt and three-quarter sleeves, her long dark hair in elegant waves. The dress was a deep emerald green with a black crinoline slip, and her lips were painted a rich red. She was too beautiful for words. Scotty felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest, felt his pulse rise. _The mates in Engineering would take the piss now if they knew about this. I gaze upon the loveliest creature in the universe and not a thing stirring. What would they think?_

The thought fled as quickly as it had come. He found he didn't care a whit what anyone else would think of him because no one else had Freddey smiling at them like that. He rose from his chair to greet her properly, taking her dainty hand and offering her bow. His mother had taught him to be gentleman, after all. He never saw Kirk smiling and nudging McCoy, discreetly pointing at them. Midnight was in fifteen minutes.

"Here," he said softly, presenting the clumsily rewrapped gift, "I… uh, I hope you like it… again."

Freddey smiled at him brightly and took the package. They sat next to each other, Scotty's leg jiggling nervously. Well-manicured fingers plucked off the twine and hastily taped brown paper. She grinned at the cover again, running her fingers over the letters once more, and cracked the book open to the front insert. There, inked into the bottom of the page, were Scotty's words.

"What does it say, Scotty?" she asked, "I'm afraid I can't read it."

"It's Gaelic, lass," he told her, "Scot-Gaelic, as a matter o' fact. It was the only class outside o' any maths or science that I was any good at. You'd like it, I think, for it's an old language. Very old. Ancient, in fact. You could likely learn it in the blink of an eye."

"Well, what does it say?"

"Its says: _Is tú gaol mo chridhe, mo spiorad cairdeach. Guma math a theid leibh, mo suilean geala. Montgomery C. J. Scott_," he reads.

"But what does it mean?"

"I shan't tell you," he replied playfully, "You told me to put an inscription. You didn't say it had to be in Standard or that you had to understand it."

"Oh, Scotty, that isn't fair," she pouted, "Please, tell me what it means."

"No, you won't be able to sway me. I shan't tell you."

"Then I'll look it up."

"No you won't. You want me to tell you."

She pouted a bit more, saying, "But I am _very_ curious."

"Indeed you are, but I don't think you'll look for it before I tell you."

Freddey opened her mouth to reply, but McCoy hurried over with Kirk, both grinning and saying, "Come on! It's nearly one minute to midnight! Almost the New Year!"

They took Freddey by the arm, and she reached out and grabbed Scotty's hand to drag him with her. Warmth spread from his fingers through his body. At twenty seconds to midnight, the countdown began. Freddey's face was flushed with excitement and cheer.

"Five!... Four!... Three!... Two!... One!... _Happy New Year!_"

The crew cheered loudly, everyone chanting and kissing each other. Kirk and McCoy both swept down to kiss Freddey on either cheek, and Uhura and Carol did the same to Scotty.

"Scotty, you've gotta lead us in Auld Lang Syne," Uhura told him, smiling.

"Wha'? Me? No no no," he protested, "Ye don' want me leading any songs."

"Please, Scotty," Freddey asked of him, "lead the song. I'll sing with you if you do. Oh, please."

He looked at some of the crew's expectant faces.

"Och, fine," he finally agreed to a cheer, "but don' make fun! I warned ye I'm no' a good singer."

Kirk cheerfully ushered him and Freddey to a table near a piano, and Scotty began the song in a wavering brogue, "_Should auld acquaintance be forgot/ and never brought to mind?/ Should auld acquaintance be forgot/ and auld lang syne…_"

The party joined in for the chorus, "_For auld lang syne, my dear/ for auld lang syne/ we'll take a cup o' kindness yet/ for auld lang syne…_" and it was just the chorus they sang. Freddey was the only one who joined him for the other verses.

"_And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp/ and surely I'll be mine/ and we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet/ for auld lang syne…"_

There went the chorus. He looked over to Freddey, and he felt emboldened.

"_We twa hae run about the braes/ and pou'd the gowans fine/ but we've wander'd monie a weary fit/ sin' auld lang syne…"_

The group carried the chorus for them again, and oh, Scotty yearned to reach out and take Freddey's hand.

"_We twa hae paidl'd in the burn/ frae morning sun til dine/ but seas between us braid hae roar'd/ sin' auld lang syne…"_

Kirk appeared, bearing a glass of champagne for each of them before their next chorus. Freddey grinned at Scotty for the next verse.

"_And there's a hand, my trusty fiere/ and gie's a hand o' thine/ and we'll tak a right gude willie waught/ for auld lang syne…"_

"_For auld lang syne, my dear/ for auld lang syne/ we'll take a cup o' kindness yet/ for auld lang syne!"_

Scotty lifted his glass high, called out, "_Slainte!_" and drained his glass. Freddey followed suit with the same cheer, also draining her champagne glass. The party cheered. Kirk helped Freddey off the table, and the crowd pushed their way over to clap Scotty on the shoulder and congratulate them on their performance. Someone struck up music once more, and the crowd paired off and filtered onto the dance floor. Feeling brave at last, Scotty turned to Freddey, held out his hand, and asked, "Miss Mulcahy, _a bhuil thu 'g irraidh a dhanns_? Will you dance with me?"

"How do I say 'Yes, thank you'?"

"It's '_Tha, tapadh leat_'."

"_Tha, tapadh leat,_ Scotty."

She took his proffered hand, and he led her out to the dance floor, still confident. He held her hand in his and settled his other hand at the small of her back. Hers rested on his shoulder. They moved in a lazy spin.

"I don't know why you were so shy just now, Scotty," she told him, "You have a good voice."

"No, I don't," he countered, avoiding her eyes, "You're just sayin' that."

"No, I'm not. It was wonderful. Believe me, if you were bad, I'd tell you."

A chuckle bubbled up out of the Scot, bringing a brief sense of relief, though he still watched his shoes, the confidence ebbing away.

"Thank you again for my Christmas present," she told him softly after a moment, "I can't imagine how must it cost or the trouble you went through to have it bound. I really do appreciate it… very much so."

"And you are very welcome, Freddey," he replied, his voice just as low, "It was no trouble at all once I had the text. I'm no' a bit surprised you're fluent in dead languages. Ye would be… and only you would think to translate an ancient Vulcan text into those dead languages."

"Well, I'll just have try and be less predictable."

"I'm sure ye will, lass."

A moment of silence passed comfortably between them, and Scotty was still afraid to look into her eyes. He just wanted to keep feeling her hand in his and on his shoulder, wanted to keep smelling her soap and shampoo and perfume. He loved her as he had never loved another living being. She had comforted him even when she was upset herself when Kirk had died, had sought comfort from him, had shared her joy with him when Kirk was resurrected. She brought him peace when he felt worthless.

_Ah, yes,_ said a small voice in his head, _but she does that for everyone. It's her job, after all. You're not special, Monty, not special at all._

He tried to shut the voice down, to ignore it.

_No, Monty, it's not that easy to get rid of me. You know I'm right._

_You're wrong_, he told the voice, _she cares about me, and it's not like the others._

The voice just laughed derisively, and Scotty felt very low after that. Damn his insecurities and damn their poor timing! Why couldn't they let him dance with his bonnie lass in peace? Scotty's face grew hot, and he felt very embarrassed and exposed, like everyone was watching and judging him. The end of the song saved him. He stammered out an excuse about needing to wake up early and being tired from working that morning and that he really ought to leave and get some rest. He must have imagined the disappointed look on Freddey's face as he left and tried to ignore the rude voice in his head. He didn't know she left not too long after he did.

* * *

_**I'm staying tight lipped on what that Gaelic is, too. If you do read and understand it, please don't spoil it for anyone! I promise that all will be revealed by the end of the story :)**_


	4. And the Wildflowers Spring

_**Sorry for the delay in updating this one. Grad school's been crazy lately, and I just haven't had the time. I'll try to put some aside to finish up this one and Turnabout Intruder (for anyone who's following that one as well) but I can't make any promises. Thank you for being so patient if you're following :) You're the best!**_

_**A/N: yay more singing :)**_

* * *

Scotty was personally requested to be on hand for Kirk's big experiment. The captain was being court-martialed for killing a crewman called Sinason on a recent exploration. Sinason was first up on the duty roster to explore a subspace anomaly, so that was that. Never mind that Kirk and Sinason had a falling out when he'd proved himself a less than worthy officer. Sinason was booted down the chain of command and never forgave Kirk. Kirk, however, let it go. He was not one to hold grudges, Scotty found. On this particular occasion, Sinason was simply first on the duty roster, and so he had to go. It was no one's fault that something went wrong. It was no one's fault that the anomaly went critical. Someone wanted it to be someone's fault, though, and that someone had picked Kirk.

For some reason, the computer showed Kirk jettisoning the research pod before the red alert status, while Kirk maintained the opposite. No one believed that he had done so, but the video evidence was fairly damning. Scotty recalled Kirk coming back from Starbase 11 and telling him and Spock what happened.

"Cap'n," Scotty told him earnestly, "I dunnae know why the computer would do such a thing! Why, Mr. Spock and I fixed and updated everything no' a fortnight ago!"

"Mr. Scott is correct. He and I worked on several repairs regarding glitches and electronic issues, as well as updating essential software for optimal system operations."

"Aye, tha's what I said!"

"I know you did," Kirk replied, "Remember, Spock, you were telling me how you programmed the computer for a better chess game. That's what's so weird… what I can't figure out…"

Both Spock and Scotty waited for Kirk to continue.

"Sinason was lost before your upgrades, wasn't he."

It was not a question, and Scotty didn't like what it implied.

"You believe that Mr. Sinason was no', in fact, lost that day, cap'n?" Scott asked.

"I am inclined to agree with you on such a fact, sir. It is the only logical conclusion to the evidence provided."

"Well, if he's no' dead, then where is he?"

"On this ship, of course," Spock replied.

The chief engineer had to scoff at that, saying, "If that's so, why hae we no' located him?"

"Simple, Scotty, we weren't looking for him," Kirk supplied, "We all thought he was dead. Why would we look for him on our ship when we thought he was dead? Besides, if he did something to the computer systems while you guys were doing repairs, he may have been able to delete his life signs from the systems. The computer may not even know he's here."

"That may be all well and good, but how do we prove it?" Scotty asked.

None of them spoke for a long while, trying to come up with a plan. Scotty's plans were far too convoluted and would require more power than a ship under repairs would be able to muster. Each scenario was more time-consuming than the next. Scotty was beginning to think they wouldn't be able to get their captain out of this one when Spock piped up, "Captain, I believe I have an answer, but we will need to work quickly in order for it to succeed. Dr. McCoy's assistance will also be required."

Scotty's task was to quietly and carefully evacuate the crew from the ship, accounting for each and every one of the nearly five hundred crewmembers while they beamed down "as part of a systems and evacuation drill". It took nearly two hours to get everyone off the ship.

"_Mr. Scott, is the crew all accounted for?_" Kirk called down after the last group beamed down.

"Aye, sir, everyone except you gents on the bridge, myself, and… oh dear..."

"_Oh dear? That doesn't sound good, Scotty. Who's not planetside?_"

"Sir, it's… it's Lt. Mulcahy," he explained, "She never reported for transport."

"_Come up to the bridge,_" Kirk replied in a tight voice, "_then we'll find her. Kirk out._"

Scotty was fuming. He did not want to report to the bridge and _then_ go look for Freddey. He wanted to look now. She was stuck Lord knows where on the ship while a crazy man ran about. She could be in danger, could be hurt, could be- no. He shouldn't think like that. Such thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere. He hustled up to the bridge, reasoning that the faster he got up there, the faster he could leave and look for Freddey. He barely managed to snap off a salute to the admirals presiding over this unusual preceding when he arrived.

He listened carefully as Spock explained the experiment. With every known person on board the ship currently on the bridge (save for Freddey), there was a simple way to determine Sinason's location. Spock turned up the ship's sound controls, picking up the individual heartbeats of everyone aboard. Dr. McCoy then went around to those present and removed their heartbeats from the system until only two were left. Scotty was glad no one could hear his anymore; it skyrocketed upon hearing a rabbit-fast beat remaining. It had to be Freddey, poor Freddey, scared Freddey, possibly hurt Freddey. Scotty whipped around to look at Kirk, and the two of them, along with Spock and McCoy, took off for the source of the sound. The heartbeats echoed through the ship, one thundering faster than the other, though not by much.

_Where is she?_ Scotty thought frantically as he tore through the halls, _Where?!_

It never took Scotty so long to reach Engineering. He skidded to halt in front of the main doors and reached for the keypad. McCoy grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Wha' are ye doin'?" Scotty hissed.

"Let me and Spock go in first," Kirk said quickly, "We don't know what's in there. Sinason could be waiting just on the other side to blow us away."

Scotty opened his mouth to protest, but McCoy growled, "You'll be no help to her if you're dead. Wait for Jim and Spock."

Scotty wanted to knock each of them out cold, but he knew better. He knew they were right. The four men carefully flanked the doors. Nothing happened when they whooshed open, so Kirk and Spock went in, phasers at the ready. Scotty rushed in behind them, running all over the place to locate Freddey… and he was not happy when he did.

"DOCTOR! McCOY, I NEED YOU! DOCTOR!"

Freddey, in a horrifyingly familiar situation, was trapped in a decontamination chamber, with no air. As she breathed, she slowly depleted her own oxygen, filling the chamber instead with carbon dioxide. She was suffocating. She was already slumped onto the floor of the chamber, clutching at her chest and struggling for air. Her lips were turning blue. Scotty scrambled to the chamber controls, trying to free her, but it took time to open these chambers. They couldn't be opened on a whim, but time was precious to Scotty now, and he swore under his breath at the lack of speed. He could still hear the heartbeats sounding through the ship, one now incredibly fast and the other slowing. It created a sickening tattoo that beat in his ears while he raced to free his lass. He bellowed for McCoy again. Freddey was no longer moving.

Scotty's fingers flew over the keypads and buttons at warp speed, and he let out a cheer when he heard the door hiss as it opened, a cheer that died in his throat when he saw Freddey topple over onto the floor. He pulled her away from the door; she was limp. He laid he on the floor, feeling for a pulse. Finding none, his scream for McCoy became desperate. Somehow, his first responder training beat its way to the forefront of his mind, pushing down the panic slightly, and he began CPR. This was not how he imagined their lips touching for the first time. He was giving breaths and doing compressions when McCoy arrived.

"Christ! What happened, Scotty?" he asked rapidly.

"I-I dunno exactly! She was trapped in that decontamination chamber with no air and she was suffocating and now she can't-! She's no'-!"

McCoy swore vehemently, put in a call for a medical team, swore again, and shouted for Spock to bring a stretcher and call up a medical team. McCoy pushed Scotty out of the way to begin resuscitation himself. Scotty fell back to the floor, his breath coming in wheezing gasps, his chest feeling like it was caught in a vice. This couldn't be. This wasn't fair. He'd wanted her lips to be warm when they touched his the first time, for her to laugh cheerfully with him over a joke, for those grey eyes to twinkle with her smile. He'd never told her he loved her. She couldn't die.

He jumped upon feeling pressure on his shoulder and turned to see Kirk kneeling beside him, utterly stricken, his face pale under the drying patches of blood. Scotty vaguely recalled they were close, Kirk and Freddey, had known each other a long time.

"Scotty… Scotty, I think…"

Tears burned in Scotty's eyes. He knew it. _Too late. Toolatetoolatetoolateshe'sdeaddeadDEAD-_

"… I think you saved her."

Scotty's head jerked up to look at Kirk, then McCoy. The doctor rasped, "Jim's right, Scotty. You saved her life with your quick thinkin'."

"She's-? She's alive?" Scotty squeaked out.

McCoy just nodded, and Scotty found himself swept up into Kirk's arms, neither one with dry eyes. A medical team arrived only a few minutes later to escort Freddey and Kirk to Medical, as well as Sinason, whom Kirk had rendered unconscious. McCoy allowed Nurse Cook to take over Freddey, and he approached Kirk and Scotty, both of whom were teary and sniffling and grinning. Scotty's heart was singing.

"Come on now. Both of ya are comin' with me to Medical. Ya been through hell, and I wanna give you both a good once over before I order ya to rest."

The doctor led the exhausted (and relieved) engineer and captain up to medical. Freddey, her chest gently rising and falling and some color returning to her cheeks, was spirited off to a private room, as was Sinason (who Scotty didn't really care about). McCoy sat Kirk down and gave him a thorough examination, the latter having been through a fairly substantial fistfight with Sinason. The captain bore some small cuts and more significant bruises to prove it. The good doctor also gave Scotty a quick once over, though Scotty presumed it was more for McCoy's benefit than his own.

"Listen up, I want the both of ya outta my sight and off-duty for no less than twenty-four hours. The _next_ twenty-four hours. The ship's outta danger and so are we. The two of you deserve a good, long rest. Now git."

Scotty wanted to argue, but he knew it would be useless. McCoy had just laid down the law, and even Kirk wasn't prepared to argue with him. He just smiled knowingly at McCoy, a smile that meant he was about to be up to no good, and he took Scotty by the arm and led him out to the corridor.

"Cap'n?"

"It's Jim, Scotty, and you are coming with me to my quarters for that rest Bones ordered us to take. Come on…"

Once more, Scotty chose not to argue. He allowed himself to be led to Kirk's quarters without complaint. He'd never been in there before. Kirk allowed very few people into his private quarters, and Scotty could only think of Spock and McCoy as being there on a regular basis. He felt very honored indeed.

Kirk's quarters would be called spare if not for the fact that old, framed photographs covered every available surface, though there was nothing from his life before the Academy. The photos included various people Scotty recognized. Some, like Spock, McCoy, and Freddey adorned most of the photos, while others were in only one or two candid shots of life on the Enterprise. Scotty was shocked to his own face in several of the frames, all candid, snapped while he was working in Engineering or lounging in the rec or relaxing on leave. He felt heat rise into his face.

"Come on, Scotty, sit! Make yourself comfortable. Whatcha want to drink?"

"Well, lad ye know if I had my druthers, I'd prefer scotch, but-"

"Rocks or neat?" Kirk smirked.

"Och, _neat_, lad, the only way to drink it."

Moments later, he found himself presented with a tumbler of fine scotch, the bottle set within reach.

"This is some fine scotch, cap'n. Ye better keep an eye on that bottle, or there may be quite a bit less than you expect once I've gone," Scotty said after a sip.

"Only the best for Winona Kirk's baby boy," he replied with a smile, " and remember, call me Jim now. We're just friends now, not captain and engineer."

Scotty chuckled and took another sip. Each man took the time, silently, to finish his glass, and after another round was poured, Kirk spoke up, "Scotty, can we talk?"

"Aye, cap- Jim. Is it over anythin' in particular?"

"About Freddey."

Scotty looked down at his glass and took a bigger sip. He'd rather not talk about her. Everyone on the ship knew that Kirk and Freddey were close, far closer than they were to anyone else. It was only natural for Kirk to want to keep others away. Scotty waited for the hammer blow, for Kirk to tell him to back off, to leave Freddey alone.

"You care for Fred a lot, don't you, Scotty?" Kirk asked quietly.

He just nodded in reply, unable to speak. His face was hot. Kirk sighed above him. Here it was. He could feel the dread creeping up his spine.

"Look, I know what people think," Kirk explained at last, "Freddey and I are not, have never been, and never will be in any kind of romantic relationship. She's like a sister to me. We were there for each other during a very hard time, and it made us very close friends. Nothing more. We just happen to be very comfortable around each other, so people think we're dating or something."

Scotty still said nothing, his heart pounding.

"That being said," the captain continued, "all I want is for her to be happy. I want her happy and healthy and loved… and I can see that you love her, Scotty."

Scotty began sputtering, "Oh, well, I-I wouldnae… I… erm… well, laddie, I-"

"Please, Scotty, everyone can see it. Even Spock. The only one that doesn't is Freddey, and it's because she's stupid oblivious when it comes to herself. Can't flirt to save her life or tell when someone's flirting with her. If you wanna date her, you've gotta be blunt."

Scotty couldn't find words, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, just staring at Kirk.

"I… I can't say anythin' to her," he said at last, "I couldn't… she wouldnae want me…"

"Why not? You're a good guy, loyal, hardworking, kind, stubborn. You're an accomplished Starfleet officer on the best ship in the 'Fleet. I'm surprised you don't have people beating down your door."

_Well, I can't very well _tell_ the lad why they're not after me… or why she wouldn't want me…_

Scotty heaved a sigh and put his head in his hands, trying to work through all his emotions. He heard Kirk moving around and felt him sit beside him.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't tell her," Scotty muttered sadly, "Winifred would never want an old, cranky Scotsman like me, who loves his engines and ship too much to even want to go on shore leave. I drink too much when I do leave, and sometimes even when I'm here. Besides, she's probably got loads of nice young lads and lasses after her. She doesnae need some old engineer that won't… nevermind…"

"What is it, Scotty? You can tell me."

"I… she wouldnae be happy with me because… well, I'm too old," he offered, stalling for time and hoping it would work, "I was already thirteen when she was but a wee bairn."

"Oh, that's not all there is," Kirk relied, cutting through Scotty's excuse, "There are plenty of couples out there with a bigger age difference than thirteen years. Look, you're my friend, and I wanna help you out. Just tell me what's wrong. It may not be as big a deal as you think."

"It's embarrassing," Scotty mumbled, still hoping to get away without talking about it. He'd never explained that part of himself to anyone, and he really didn't want to have to talk to his captain about it.

"Hey, I am a great secret keeper, no matter what Fred and Bones say. You can tell me anything. I promise."

Scotty wet his lips nervously and looked up to Kirk, whose face was kind and open. He looked away again. Times like this reminded him of exactly how good of a man the captain was. Kirk rested a gentle and encouraging hand on Scotty's shoulder. It was now or never.

"Well, sir… Jim… it's just that… well, I've never really been interested in other people, always liked engines and machines and the like more. So, sort of followin' that idea, there wasn't… I mean, I wasnae really ever interested in… _certain activities_ and… well, those _certain activities_ still don't really… interest me. I can appreciate a bonnie lass or handsome lad as much as anyone else, but I just don' see the point of… _activities_," he stammered out.

He was red-faced and embarrassed and he could feel Kirk looking at him.

"Oh, Scotty, that's nothing to be embarrassed about," Kirk told him encouragingly, "That's just who you are. Just like there's people who like sex with the opposite gender and the same gender or a bunch of different genders. It's like a multiple choice test for who you wanna have sex with, and you got 'none of the above'. That's all. I mean, I can't say it's not a little weird to me, but I really like sex and can't really see how a person could do without it."

"Seems like a lo' of work and trouble for somethin' I can just do myself. Why worry abou' getting' a whole other person involved to get a feeling when I can do fine by myself? It's too complicated."

"Says the man who works with warp engines and transporter systems all day."

"Tha' I do. Science is simple. There's only one right answer, even if you haven't found it yet. Sex? Far too many variables for my taste. Too much that can go wrong."

Kirk snorted, "You realize that screwing up a warp core or transporter would be way worse than screwing up sex?"

"Aye, so it's better I only focus on one, then, isn' it?" Scotty countered.

Kirk let out a bark of laughter, and Scotty laughed along with him. The tension had bled out of the small room, and Scotty's fears had gone with it. Kirk quickly poured out some more scotch for each of them, and when they had sipped some of it and had stopped chuckling, Kirk said quietly, "Please, Scotty… just think about telling Fred how you feel. We had a close call today and… just think about it. I'm just gonna warn you that she doesn't trust and love freely or easily, and she's awful hard to get, but if you do get her… boy, have you got her, and you'll never be rid of her. You better be sure you want her before you jump in."

"Jim, laddie, you have no idea how much I want her," he murmured in reply

He didn't think Kirk heard him because the captain scrubbed at his face and said, "Ugh, look at me makin' a mess of our rest. Bones would have my hide. Come on, now, let's talk about something else, something happy, Scotty. You choose."

"You know, I recently read a fine article on me own transwarp beaming theory. This fella writin' it seemed to think my theory was a load o' rot!"

Just like that, they were chatting animatedly and cheerfully, their voices and laughter growing louder as the scotch bottle emptied. Hours later, Scotty stumbled back to his own quarters and tipped himself into bed fully dressed. He slept dreamlessly until the next morning, when he woke with a killer hangover. Water and aspirin weren't going to cure this one, so he shuffled off up to medical to beg McCoy for his miracle hangover cure… and maybe see Freddey while he was there.

"Ah, so you and Jimbo had your own special brand of relaxation, huh?" McCoy told him, "Alright, c'mere and I'll fix ya up…"

McCoy jabbed the hypospray into his neck a little harder than was probably necessary, causing Scotty to wince. At least the hangover began clearing up right away. Once McCoy noticed his patient was sufficiently recovered, he told Scotty, "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Scott. Fred was askin' for ya earlier. You can go in and sit with her if you'd like, though she's asleep just now. I reckon I'm gonna give you and Jim another day off, just since ya both hate 'em so much. Go on, git in there and set with her."

McCoy must have been up all night, judging by how thick his accent was. Scotty just muttered, "Thank ye, doc," and went in. Freddey looked just as lovely asleep as she did awake, her dark hair splayed across the pillow, her pink lips slightly parted. It was wonderful to see that pink tinge in her face and lips again. Scotty sat down carefully so as not to wake her and retrieved his datapad, pulling up an article on ship design and starting to absently hum an old Gaelic tune. Soon, he found himself singing the old songs in a low voice, songs like 'Bonnie Wee Thing', 'Siuil a Run', 'Black is the Colour', and 'Red is the Rose', all of which he knew from his youth. He went on to his recent favorite.

"_By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes/ Whaur the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond/ Whaur me and my true love were e'er wont tae gae/ On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond._

"_Oh, ye'll tak the high road and I'll tak the low road/ And I'll be in Scotland afore ye/ Fir me and me true love will ne'er meet again/ On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond._

"_Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen/ On the steep, steep sides of Ben Lomond/ Whaur in soft purple hue, the hielan' hills we view/ And the moon comin' oot in the gloamin'._

"_Oh, ye'll tak the high road and I'll tak the low road/ And I'll be in Scotland afore ye/ Fir me and me true love will ne'er meet again/ On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond._

"_The wee birdies sing and the wildflowers spring/ And in sunshine the waters are sleepin'/ But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again/ and the woeful may cease frae their grievin'._

"_Oh, ye'll tak the high road and I'll tak the low road/ And I'll be in Scotland afore ye/ Fir me and me true love will ne'er meet again/ On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond…_"

"Well, that's not a very happy tune, Scotty."

He quickly picked up his head and grinned.

"Och, there's me bonnie wee lass," he said cheerfully, setting aside the datapad and rising from his chair, "I'm glad to see you awake. You had an awfully close call there, my darlin'."

He reached down and embraced her gently, overjoyed to feel her in his arms again. She replied, "I'm very glad to be awake again. Len told me I have you to thank for that."

"Did he now?"

"That he did. He told me how quickly you got me out of that chamber and did CPR until he arrived. Len gave you some pretty high praise."

"Well, I'm sure he didn't mean it," Scotty joked, "He'll probably take it back tomorrow."

She gave a soft laugh, then sobered.

"I just… thank you, Scotty. Thank you so much. Y'know, I don't remember much about what happened, about me kind of dying, but I do remember pieces. I remember your voice. You were shouting. It sounded scared and sad. I just… I dunno. Just thanks for saving me, for not giving up on me."

"Now, lassie, I would never give up on you," he told her honestly.

"I'm quite sure of that. You're a stubborn man. I don't think you'd ever give up on anyone," she replied, "Hey, come on, let's cheer up. Why don't you sing me something else? Something cheerful and happy."

Scotty went through his mental songbook before settling on one he knew well.

"_Over hillways up and down/ Myrtle green and bracken brown/ Past the shieling through the town/ All for sake of Mhairi._

"_Step we gaily, on we go/ Heel for heel and toe for toe/ Arm in arm and row in row/ All for Mhairi's wedding._

"_Cheeks as bright as rowans are/ Brighter far than any star/ Fairest o' them all by far/ Is my darlin' Mhairi._

"_Step we gaily, on we go/ Heel for heel and toe for toe/ Arm in arm and row in row/ All for Mhairi's wedding._

"_Plenty herring, plenty meal/ Plenty peat to fill her creel/ Plenty bonnie bairns as well/ That's the toast for Mhairi._

"_Step we gaily, on we go/ Heel for heel and toe for toe/ Arm in arm and row in row/ All for Mhairi's wedding._"

She grinned up at him from the biobed, and Scotty was sure he couldn't be happier. He didn't want to ruin the moment by making things awkward. Perhaps he would say something tomorrow.


	5. My Only Sunshine

_**Just a warning, I kind of made myself emotional when I was typing this up.**_

_**This became my baby, and thank you if you hung out with me and Scotty and especially Freddey until the end :)**_

* * *

Scotty bloody hated going on away missions. He hated leaving the Enterprise for any reason, really, even shore leave, so going down to a planet where they weren't sure what they would find was just… no. Scotty wouldn't go on such missions unless explicitly ordered to and needed, and of course, this day, Kirk ordered him. A small Starfleet outpost had put out a distress call, saying some of their security and power systems were going down and that they needed help figuring out what the problem was. Scotty was being sent down to work on the power systems, the chief security officer to work on those systems, a few security members for general protection, as well as Freddey to speak with the outpost crew over anything they needed to talk about and to drop off some medical supplies with Dr. Pierce. Scotty had to admit he was less than thrilled about Freddey coming on the away mission, but she had apparently insisted and now stood by him on the transporter pad. A strange weight seemed to settle on Scotty's chest, an unease he couldn't explain. He wished Freddey would stay on the ship.

They had grown closer, he and Freddey, since her near death experience. She would seek him out in the mess or rec room, and he would find himself stopping by her office and later her quarters for little chats. Her room was always messy and cluttered, strewn with books and pieces of clothing, and like Kirk's quarters, had framed photographs sitting on every available surface, myriad faces smiling out from them. He still hadn't told her how he felt.

Everything was quiet right after they beamed down to the surface of Laika IV, and the unnatural silence of the uninhabited planet made the hairs on the back of Scotty's neck stand up. No one from the outpost was there to meet them as they had said they would be, even though he was sure they had arrived at the proper meeting place at the proper time. Scotty scanned for any signs of the outpost crew. Finding none, he called up to the Enterprise, "Cap'n, it's Scotty. Sir, I think we've go' a bit of a problem."

"_What would that be, Mr. Scott_?" he asked, his voice tight but calm.

"Sir, the outpost team didnae meet us at the rendezvous point. There's no sign of them."

"_Go check the outpost, Mr. Scott, but be careful. Keep alert_."

"Aye, sir. Scott out."

Freddey approached him carefully, whispering, "Can you smell that, Scotty?"

"Wha'? Smell wha'?"

"Smoke."

She stepped past him a bit. He watched her closely. She reminded him almost of a hunting dog, sniffing intently and looking for something no one else seemed to see. She turned to a tree and began swiftly climbing it. Scotty hurried over to its base, hissing up at her, "Freddey, wha' the hell are ye doin'? Get down!"

"Look, someone's gotta go up and scout. Our line of sight is blocked by the trees, so I'm gonna go higher than the treeline to see what I can see. Hopefully I'll be able to see the outpost from a higher vantage point. It's tactical. I thought you'd appreciate that."

"Then be quick about it, lass."

Freddey shimmied up the tree quick as a squirrel, quicker than Scotty would have supposed she could, barely stopping before making her next moves. The leaves rustled as the branches shifted under her added weight. Scotty watched until she disappeared into the aquamarine leaves. His comm beeped not long after.

"Scott here."

"_Mulcahy here. Scotty, I found the compound, maybe two miles or so to the southwest, but-…_"

"But what?"

"_I'm not sure how much of it is left. There's a lot of smoke, very thick and very black. I don't like the looks of it._"

The unease settled deeper in his chest. He told her, "Come back down, and we'll go check it out. Scott out."

She's a little slower coming down than going up, but only a little, and it's faster than Scotty ever would have moved. As soon as she alighted on the ground, the team headed in the direction she'd indicated. The acrid tang of smoke burned in their nostrils the closer they got, joined by a sickening reek that could only be one thing.

"There's going to be casualties," Pierce muttered, "That stench is burnt flesh, no doubt about it."

"Aye, doc," Scotty asked quietly, "but who's dead? The crew or their attackers?"

Pierce did not have an answer for him. The group moved as quietly as possible through the brush. Scotty gripped his phaser tight in a combat stance, ready for a fight. He was surprised to see Freddey scanning ahead with her own phaser. Her face was set in an expression of concentration and was without fear. He didn't have time to think about it. The team broke through the brush at long last, and they were horrified at what they found.

The outpost's buildings were burnt husks, thick black smoke pouring from where windows used to be. Two heavily mutilated bodies were displayed grotesquely on the front gate of the outpost in some kind of terrifying warning, their faces split from ear to ear, their milky eyes propped open. Off to one side of the compound, other bodies were piled into an open grave that had been set alight. The bodies were still smoldering, skin blistered off to reveal charred, exposed bones. Scotty choked down the bile that rose up in his throat at such a horrific sight. Of all the things he'd expected to see, this had not been one of them. One of the security team vomited behind him. Freddey was the only one who didn't even look remotely ill, her face set in a stony expression that betrayed nothing. He'd never seen her eyes look dead before.

"We need to leave," she said just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"We can't," the security chief refuted, "We have a duty to-"

"To what? To whom?" she rounded on him, "Them? They're already dead. Duty ain't gonna do them much good now. We need to return to the ship and regroup."

"I'll be the judge of that, _lieutenant_," the security chief stated firmly, "And I-"

His words were cut off in a gurgle as an arrow pierced his throat and sent him slumping to the ground. Freddey and Scotty swore loudly, and Scotty quickly herded the rest of the team back into the dense scrub, where he hoped they would be safe from whoever was now trying to kill them with a hail of arrows. Everyone went crashing into the brush. Freddey was on her comm, bellowing to be beamed up and being told the cover was too thick to get a lock on them. Scotty's legs and lungs were burning fiercely as he ran. He made sure to keep Freddey in his sights, made sure she was ahead of him, was safe. Halfway back to the landing site, Freddey turned to look at him. Her eyes went wide.

"SCOTTY!" she screamed.

She skidded to a halt and drew her phaser, firing at points behind Scotty. He chanced a look. Five natives of this 'uninhabited' planet were hot on their heels, three with bows, one with a spear, and one with a cruel looking knife. Their skin was a vivid scarlet, their bodies painted with bright blue designs, their white hair woven into thick dreadlocks; they did not look happy. Scotty swore again and sped up. He thought he heard them drop off, struck by Freddey's cover fire. He reached out for Freddey, preparing to take her arm, intent on making her run to safety.

Pain burst in his abdomen, flaring like a supernova, followed shortly by another explosion of pain in his upper thigh, both on the left side of his body. He stumbled with a cry, groping at his stomach. Freddey screamed again and fired off a few more shots before running back to him. Warm blood slicked over his fingers from the wound to his belly, an arrow stuck through him. He knew it, though he dared not look down.

"Scotty!" Freddey gasped, "Oh my God, Scotty! Come on, get up. Please get up! We have to get back to the landing site, now. Will. You. Get. _Up_!"

She helped haul him to his feet. His wounded leg nearly gave out right away, but he somehow pushed past it. He gritted his teeth against the pain, trying to focus on Freddey's warmth at his side. The LZ seemed miles away. The pain was all consuming, surging through his nerves, setting them aflame. He tried not to think of exactly how long it would take him to go into hypovolemic shock. It was already hard to breathe.

Scotty's comm chirped, and he struggled to grab and open it with bloody fingers, grunting out, "Scott here."

"_Scotty, where are you and Fred_?" Kirk asked frantically, "_We got the others safely but we don't have you. Are you okay? Were you at the LZ? What's going-_"

Scotty let out a scream, having stumbled and tweaking the arrow in his belly.

"_Scotty, what happened? Scotty, talk to me, please talk to me-_"

"Dammit, Jimmy, Scotty got wounded!" Freddey called out, "He's got an arrow in his gut and one in his leg! We need McCoy on standby!"

"_What happened to Lcdr. Readan?_"

"Dead," Freddey spat.

"_Just… both of you get to the LZ quick as you can. I want you both to come back_."

"Workin' on it, Jim!" she shouted, pulling Scotty back to his feet; he cried out again. Her tone changed, and she soothed, "I know, Scotty. I know it hurts, but _please_ come on. We're not that far away."

That's when his leg gave out completely, just barely in sight of the LZ. He went pitching to the ground, his scream echoing off the trees. His breath came in wheezing gasps. His whole body was shaking. He was beginning to feel cold. It occurred to him he might be dying. Freddey knelt beside him, her loose braid coming out, her eyes wide and wet.

"Nonono, Scotty, don't do this, don't give up. You don't give up, remember? Not on me and not on anyone, remember? We're so close, you can't give up now…"

"It's… it's no use, m-my bonnie lass," he gasped, "I-I cannae go on… cannae move. You-you go, Winifred. I wan'… I wan' ye safe."

"No. No, I won't leave you. I'm gonna get you back."

Scotty shook his head weakly. He was dizzy and tired and cold. He murmured, "Go, lass… _mo chridhe… is tú gaol mo chridhe_… remember? I wrote that in your book."

"I remember," she replied, a tear slipping down her cheek, "I still don't know what it means, Scotty. I never looked it up."

" 's Monty..."

"Hmm?"

"Won't ye call me Monty, lass? I'd li-like for ye to call me M-Monty…"

"What does it mean, Monty?" she asked softly; it made him smile.

"_Is tú gaol mo chridhe, mo spiorad cairdeach. Guma math a theid leibh, mo suilean geala._ You are…" he began, his voice cracking, "you are the love of my heart, my-my kindred spirit. May it go well with you, my bright eyes," he whispered, "Ye are the love of my heart, Winifred."

"Oh, Monty…"

Scotty could feel himself crying. He choked, "I-I was so afraid to-to t-tell you, lassie. I thought ye wouldnae wan' anythin' tae do wi' me. I could-couldnae tell ye be-because I couldnae bear to lose ye. I've loved ye sin' I first laid eyes on ye."

He began crying in earnest, groping weakly for her hands but still finding little comfort once he had them, feeling his own were sticky with drying blood. He pleaded with her, "I don' wan' tae go yet, lass. I cannae go yet. Please, I don' wan' tae die."

"You won't," she told him resolutely through her own tears, "You won't die here. I promise. I'm gonna get you back to the Enterprise and get you healed up, okay? Just don't give up on me, okay?"

Scotty's world was beginning to go black. Freddey, in a maneuver he wished he fully comprehended at that moment, managed to heave him up onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry, though they didn't get far before a stray arrow struck a nearby tree, whizzing far too close for comfort and making Freddey lose her tenuous balance. She got him relatively gently to the ground before crashing sideways into the tree with a loud crack and a pained grunt. Scotty sat slumped against the trunk, blinking blearily at the world around him. He thought he heard her talking to the Enterprise. He couldn't be sure. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He began to slip out of consciousness.

"Monty! Monty, no!" Freddey begged, "Monty, stay with me! Don't leave me!"

"Aye… aye, l-lass," he murmured, "Never… never c-could say n-no to ye…"

"I know," she sniffed above him, "You oughta be grateful I never abused that…"

"Could… could ye do somethin' fir me, lass?"

"Of course, Monty. Whatever you want."

"I… I'd like tae hear ye… hear ye sing fir me… just anythin'… please…"

Scotty waited, listening for a moment to his own shallow, wheezing breaths, praying he hadn't imagined saying it. He only wanted to hear her voice one last time.

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine/ You make me happy when skies are grey/ You'll never know dear, how much I love you/ Please don't take my sunshine away,_" she sang in a low, wavering voice, thick with tears, "_The other night dear, as I lay sleeping/ I dreamt I held you in my arms/ When I woke dear I was mistaken/ So I hung my head and cried…_

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine/ You make me happy when skies are grey/ You'll never know dear, how much I love you/ Please don't take my sunshine away…_"

He slipped into darkness to the sound of her voice, his bloodied hands still holding hers. He, therefore, did not remember being finally beamed up to the Enterprise. He did not see Freddey crying over him and tearfully begging McCoy, "Len, you have to save him! Please save him!" and then not letting go of him when McCoy tried to take him to Medical. He was unaware of Kirk coming into the transporter room, his face pale and frightened, and going to Freddey, carefully pulling her into his arms and carrying her to Medical behind McCoy and Scotty as she sobbed into his chest.

No, the next thing Scotty knew, he was laying comfortably, hearing a soft, female voice singing a song he wasn't familiar with.

"_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream/ I know you the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam/ And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem/ But if I know you, I know what you'll do/ You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream…_"

He opened his eyes slowly, the world blurry and unfocused. He was drowsy and dry-mouthed and dizzy and heavy-limbed, but the tune lifted his spirits. He looked around the room without moving too much, waiting for his vision to clear. It seemed to him that he was in Medical, although he thought that voice might have belonged to an angel. Perhaps he was dead, after all. He shifted slightly, and throbbing pain shot through him. Not dead, then. Scotty's sight took a repeat of the tune to clear enough to make out his surroundings and see that he was indeed in Medical and not, in fact, dead. He turned his head to see who was singing.

"Hullo there, me bonnie wee lass," he rasped, his voice rough from disuse.

Freddey looked up at him, grinning widely. She got to her feet and stood by his bed, saying, "It's good to see you awake, Sleeping Beauty."

"It's good to be awake, though I wasnae entirely sure I was-"

"Good, you're awake," McCoy interrupted, coming into the room.

The doctor bore a barely disguised smile and said, "There ya go, Fred. He's awake. Now, would ya please go to your quarters and go to bed?"

"There's a bed right here," she replied.

"_No_, I don't mean a biobed, I mean _your_ bed. Look, Scotty needs a lot of tests done and then he's gonna need some rest, too," McCoy explained gently, "He's alright now. You can take a break and get some rest. You can come back later and stay for as long as ya want. I promise."

Freddey seemed to think about it for a moment before finally agreeing, "If you insist, but I'll be back soon."

"I'm sure ya will, darlin'. I'm sure ya will."

Only as she left did Scotty notice Freddey's right arm in a sling. He waited until she was gone to ask McCoy, "What happened to Freddey? Was she shot, too?"

"Said she dislocated it fallin' into a tree after she tried to carry your fat ass outta the woods."

"Och, I'm no' fat."

"Well, ya were a bit too heavy for Fred, though she said she got ya a good distance," McCoy told him, starting his examination of Scotty, "She was bound and determined to get you out and good thing she was. Too much longer and we woulda lost ya. You lost a lot of blood down there, and them arrows were in tricky spots, just missed some vital organs and arteries. You were very lucky, Mr. Scott, very lucky indeed. Now can ya sit up at all?"

Scotty dutifully allowed himself to be poked and prodded by the doctor for nigh on an hour before he was declared to be on the road to recovery and promptly ordered to rest. Scotty lay back on the pillows, exhausted from the simple act of sitting up, and closed his eyes to sleep. He just wanted Freddey to come back. It was likely this thought that led him into one of his old, familiar dreams of his lovely lass. She was braiding her long, dark hair and laughing with him over a funny story and singing an old tune with him. She always smiled in his dreams, her cheeks rosy, her grey eyes twinkling cheerfully. Even in his dreams, he was shy, as if Freddey could somehow see into his dreams and would know what he dreamt. In this one, he found himself so bold as to grab her hand, twining their fingers. Her soft voice floated over him.

"_Somewhere beyond the sea/ Somewhere waiting for me/ My lover stands on golden sands/ And watches the ships that go sailing…_

"_Somewhere beyond the sea/ He's there waiting for me/ If I could fly like birds on high/ Then straight to his arms I'd go sailing…_"

He melted into the sound of her voice, reveling in the feeling of her warmth pressed against his side, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. She continued, "_It's far beyond the stars/ It's near beyond the moon/ I know beyond a doubt/ My heart will lead me there soon…_

The throbbing pain began again, pulling Scotty into wakefulness. His eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light. The song still wafted over him. He didn't want it to end.

"_We'll meet beyond the shore/ We'll kiss just like before/ Happy we'll be beyond the sea/ And never again I'll go sailing…_"

Holding Freddey's hand had not been a dream. Her dainty fingers were twined with his, his thumb stroking over the back of her small hand. His heartbeat picked up slightly. Well, she knew he awake now, if she didn't before.

"Freddey, lass, ye have the voice of an angel," he murmured.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, Monty," she replied, "My brothers never did."

"They just don' know what's good then, do they? Oh, my bonnie wee lass, I could listen to you sing all day," his face reddened as he said more quietly, "…could listen forever."

A hush settled over them, and Scotty found he was unable to keep from stroking her hand, and she did not pull away from him. He sighed after a moment and told her softly, "I… I meant wha' I said down there, Winifred. I really do love ye. I just… I couldn't tell you before then because… well, I was afraid you'd reject me or push me away, and couldnae have bore tha'. Since I was dyin', I figured it might hae been the right time tae speak up."

He looked to their joined hands. His were big and rough, calloused and scarred from years of working with them all the time, dirt and grease permanently crusted under his nails. Hers were soft and dainty, bearing only faint callouses from her time living on her grandparents' farm, her nails well-manicured. Surely his hand did not belong in hers. He almost pulled away. He murmured, "Silly of me tae think ye could love a cranky ol' Scotsman…"

Her fingers gripped his a little tighter.

"I… well, I haven't been very brave myself, Monty," she said quietly, "Y'know, I can remember the day we met. It was in Engineering. I think you'd been working all day or something 'cause you were all sweaty and dirty and rumpled, but I kinda liked it. It was endearing. I liked you from the start, I think, thought you were handsome and all that. Then I got to know you better. There's an old quote that says, 'I fell in love the way you fall asleep; Slowly, and then all at once.' That's… that's exactly what happened to me. I never thought it _would_ happen… but it did. I… I fell in love… with you."

Scotty blinked up at her, unsure he's actually heard what he thought he did.

"Wha'-…? Wha' did you say?"

Freddey giggled a bit, then replied, beaming, "I love you, Montgomery Scott."

Scotty felt a wide grin splitting his face. He would think this a dream if not for his still throbbing wounds. If it had been a dream, it would have been the best he'd ever had. He lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to the smooth skin of the back of her hand. His heart sang. His spirit soared. He was sure he'd never been happier in his whole life than he was in this moment, with Freddey beaming at him and saying she loved him, her cheeks flushed and rosy. He was still pleasantly surprised when Freddey lurched forward and wrapped her arms around his neck (her injured shoulder healed for the most part) and pressed her face into the skin of his neck. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing deep. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her waist. Tears welled in his eyes from his overwhelming joy. An eternity seemed to pass before he pulled away gently to look at Freddey, her eyes wet and her smile wide. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks. He could see all those freckles he loved so.

"Monty," she whispered, "_An toir thu dhomh pòg_?"

"Hm, that was some lovely Gàidhlig, lass. Say it again for me?"

She giggled again, repeating, "_An toir thu dhomh pòg_?"

"Aye.. aye, I think I will…"

Scotty leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, and oh, this was what he had wanted for so long. He'd heard of a mysterious (and cliché) spark that people often felt when they were with the person they loved, a special feeling through their whole body they'd never felt with anyone else. It seemed so impossible that just being around someone could elicit such strong feelings in a person, could bring out such intense emotions. Scotty wondered what they were talking about.

Now, he knew. His whole body felt light and warm, like a sun was radiating from within him. A pleasant buzz hummed at the base of his skull and thrummed up his spine and tingled in his limbs. Her lips were soft and warm and slightly chapped, and their noses were nearly pressed together, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel her breath, could almost taste it when it passed between their parted lips, warm and sweet. Nothing else in the whole world mattered other than the gentle touch of her lips.

He could not be sure how much time actually passed before they parted, grinning at each other. He neither knew nor cared if it had been seconds or minutes or hours.

"I love ye, Winifred," he whispered.

"And I love you, Monty… now scoot over and make some room for me up there."

"Now, just what do ye think you're goin' tae do up here?"

"I was hoping you'd want a nice cuddle," she teased, "_but_ if you don't want to-"

"Oh no ye don't," he smirked, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her close, "You better get yourself right up here, lass…"

Freddey giggled again and hopped up beside him on the biobed to nestle herself against his side, resting her head on his shoulder and draping an arm over his chest. Scotty wrapped his arm around her in return. It felt perfect. He brought his hand up to stroke her hair, dropping a gentle kiss to the dark locks and breathing her in. He'd never been happier. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. It seemed to him that Freddey did the same.

Neither one of them saw Kirk and McCoy beaming at them from the doorway, nor did they hear McCoy grumbling, "About damn time…"

* * *

_**Do you like nice fluffy stories about Freddey and Scotty (with a pinch of angst)? Do you want to know more about Freddey's past? Keep an eye on my account for more in (hopefully) the near future!**_


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